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' ' The road is long 
And the sky is gray" 



ASTRAY WITH SONG 
AND FANCY 



BY 



Edward Hicks Streeter Terry 




Illustrated from Photographs 

by 

John Wright Kirk, Jr. 



The Biddle Press 
Philadelphia 






v\ 



M 



\1 



JAN I4I9I6 
©GLA418475 



TO MY FRIENDS 

AND 

TO TIME. 

To you, dear friends, who came to me 

When I was in Gethsemane, 

To you who made the gray day bright, 

Who were like stars in darkest night, 

These songs that grew through hours of pain, 

From opening line to closing strain, 

Are offered, and to you, too, Time, 

I dedicate this book of rhyme, 

Yet, if you ne'er should look between 

Its covers or recall a scene 

As you fore'er fling smiles and tears, 

I trust that from some friendly throat 

One song, at least, of these I wrote, 

May rise triumphant through the years ! 



CONTENTS 

Page 

To My Friends and to Time 5 

Spring 7 

Night Song 8 

The Rosebud 9 

Hope 10 

The Cars 11 

Chanson 12 

In April 13 

Love is Not Blind 14 

In the Harbor 15 

Love and Mignonette 16 

Success in Apparent Failure 17 

The Ivy 18 

A Fancy 19 

When I Beheld You 20 

At an Old Bookstore 21 

Trust 22 

Song 23 

Miracles 24 

Triolet 25 

Barcarolle 26 

Constancy 27 

Invitation 28 

Spring is in the Air 29 

Thou Hast Thy Virgin Soul 30 

Will Shakespeare in Stratford-on-Avon 31 

The End O' the Quest 32 

Even Song 34 

The Creation of Song 35 

How 36 

Autumn 37 

O Little Fir-Tree 38 

To a Boy Scout 39 

To a Butterfly 40 

When All the Silver Stars Grow Dim 41 

Hath Spring Not Come 42 

To the World 43 

Canoeing at Lenape 44 

My Prayer .45 

Home Walls 46 

The Birds are Singing in the Rain 47 

The Token 48 

To Mother 49 



CONTENTS 

Page 

The Night-Blooming Cereus 50 

The Battle 51 

Schumann's Traumerei 52 

The Madonna 53 

The Storm 54 

Flower Song 55 

The Lady of the Blue Bandeau 56 

One Who Was Fond of Ephemeral Pleasures . . . .57 

Chanson 58 

In the Catskills 59 

Niagara 60 

Bernard Shaw 61 

Song 62 

Kinship 63 

To Mischa Elman 64 

"King by Divine Right" 65 

To F. Gutekunst 66 

The Wild-Rose 67 

The Wanderer's Song 68 

Eugenie 69 

To a Child With Flowers 70 

The Test 71 

A Christmas Song 72 

Shadowed 73 

The Robin's Song 74 

A Revelation 75 

The Soul Victorious 76 

The Apple Blossoms 77 

Chanson 78 

Peace 79 

Destiny 81 

When Our Ships Come In 82 

At Cedarcroft 83 

At Bayard Taylor's Tomb 84 

Thoughts Suggested by a Child's Gift of Hyacinths 85 

Oh! Let Me Be Your Friend 88 

Imprisoned 89 

On Receiving Some Woodland Flowers 90 

The Good Wife's Song 91 

Natal Song 92 

In a Garden 93 

The Evening Primroses 94 

Eros 95 

Lullaby 96 




And at her laughter, 
ice- freed waters sing. 



SPRING. 

VfO cold blast stayeth the approach of Spring; 
■*• She bravely treads where hollows hold 

the snow ; 
Then, from her foot-prints, countless snow- 
drops grow, 
And at her laughter, ice-freed waters sing. 
She comes with all the bounty of a king 

Who on his subjects would great wealth be- 
stow ; 
Then, on the sward, like sovereigns falling so, 
The butter-cups are flung, with noiseless ring. 

She glances — and the apple-blossoms blush ; 
She sings — and all the violets awake 

To touch the lips that, singing, called them 

forth. 
What though a storm should come from 
out the north, 
Trying its best her joyous song to slake: 
She shall not cease till Summer bids her hush ! 



NIGHT SONG. 

Oh! iv hat a fine fan it •would make, if we could put a handle 
on the moon. — From the Japanese. 

TS there not some maiden fair, 

Of an ante-bellum day, 
Dressed in lace and old brocade, 
With a moss-rose in her hair, 
And a cheek Time cannot fade, 
Coming by Love's starlit way ? 

Put a handle on the moon, 
Tiny, brilliant, ivory stars. 
Such a fan for such a one ! . . . 
Ah ! but see the cruel sun 
With the morn, its light debars 
Dream of maid and fan too soon ! 



THE ROSEBUD. 

I 

HTO-DAY I saw a bud, 

A rosebud by the walk 
Within my garden bare ; 
The bitter, biting air 
Had chilled its slender stalk 
And stilled its joyous blood. 

II 

O bud that ne'er shall know 
The joy of growth and bloom, 
The wild bee's early kiss, 
Dawn-light or twilight-gloom, 
Your slim stalk I shall miss 
When earth is wrapped in snow. 

Ill 

There is a spot I hold 
Where blighted lives will see 
Their guerdon in God's face. 
Perhaps within that place 
This bud by love set free 
May yet its leaves unfold ! 



HOPE. 

I 

T ITTLE, rosy, smiling Hope, 

-■— ' Nodding, teasing when we grope,- 

Throwing kisses to Despair 

Till he looks so debonair 

One would almost think him kind — 

Soother of a troubled mind, 

Laughing all our fears away, 

Bidding Joy his flight delay, 

Running, hiding, ne'ertheless 

Constant in thy wish to bless — 

Daughter of stout Jollity, 

What would man be without thee ! 

II 

Jocund, fair, indeed, art thou 
As the buds upon the bough 
When the song the robins sing, 
Blown by winds of early spring, 
Comes to petaled, waiting ears — 
Scatterer of April's tears, 
Making earth, with one accord, 
Bloom to greet the risen Lord — 
Wanderer that comes again, 
Comforter and boon to men, 
Life is good because of thee, 
Best friend of Humanity! 

10 



THE CARS. 

DY day I hear their whistles shrill, 

The sound of many rumbling wheels 
As they come climbing up the hill 
Where oft my eager vision steals. 

By night they gleam through misty rain 
Or starlight dim or falling snow; 

I watch them, at the window-pane — 
Whence do they come? And whither go? 

I strain to see, if one should stop; 

Then, with my brooding heart elate, 
I let my book or verses drop 

To greet a friend, within the gate ! 



11 



CHANSON. 

A joyous, dancing spirit — 

Is it Terpsichore ? 
Roams through the trees and likes to flit 
Around the button-wood. 
Look ! now upon that very tree 
The button-balls dance merrily. 

Merrily, so merrily 

Amid the cold and sleet 

The seed-balls dance upon the tree, 

With nimble unseen feet. 

What spirit hath, in sportive mood, 

Found in the tree a safe retreat ? 



12 



IN APRIL. 

CUN, cloud and laughter, 

Blue sky, and rain 
Follow right after ; 
Then sun again ! 

Pink bud and white bloom, 
Green leaf, and dew, 

Bird-song and cloud-gloom 
Make earth anew ! 



13 



LOVE IS NOT BLIND. 

OVE is not blind, but those who love are 
1 - J blind! 

Each fault assumes a virtue to the eyes, 
And never comes a doubt or mild surprise 
So long as words are true and smiles are kind ; 
But let there come a day when duties bind 
And harsh words greet the ears — oh, then 

the sighs ! 
For Reason, in Love's stead, draws near and 
tries 
To let the light shine in, upon the mind. 

At first all actions seem or fair or dark, 
But, as day passes day, there slowly comes 

More light until a fault is just a fault ; 
Then Love, who silent came, departs with 
drums, 
Not joyously a-beat as in a park, 

But muffled as if leading to a vault ! 



14 



IN THE HARBOR. 

HP HE boat is tied; 

My treasure's home; 
No need have I to sail the sea; 
No more need roam 
'Gainst storm, nor ride 

On waves that beat incessantly. 

Now, at the end, 

What has it brought? 

Not wealth, but things of greater worth 
Love and a friend, 
For these I sought 

And found them all about the earth. 

God speed the wind 
Who sets his sail 

Nor waits for sun or sparkling star ! 
Oh ! may he find 
His holy grail 

Though storm should bear his boat afar. 



15 



LOVE AND MIGNONETTE. 

[" found Love lying at my door; 
How beautiful and fair was he ! 
Across his rosy dimpled knee 
His arrows lay — his only store — 
Whose brilliance showed my tight-shut door. 

I gathered mignonette for him ; 

I made a tiny, fragrant bed ; 

I put a rose beneath his head 
The while my eyes with tears were dim 
Because the door was barred to him. 

He must have thought the mignonette 
Concealed a snare — I do not know — 
He started up with quivering bow. 

Alas ! he might have been there yet 

Had 1 not gathered mignonette. 

No more its fragrance gladdens me ; 

My once-barred door is open wide ; 

I watch from morn till eventide ; 
My heart shall keep him warm, if he 
Will only come again to me ! 



16 



SUCCESS IN APPARENT FAILURE. 

A growing soul beheld a gleam ; 

Then toiled on bravely to the end ; 
He searched for years and wandered far 
And died still groping for the star. 
Alas ! and did God only send 
An ignus-fatuus ? A dream ? 

Ah, who can tell ! These souls that see 
A burst of glory, then the dark, 

Know not, themselves, if dream or truth 
Reveals itself to aspiring youth. 
Are they indeed defeated ? — Hark ! 
" Hast thou forgotten Calvary ?" 



17 



THE IVY. 

\I7HAT a pleasant sight to see 

Ivy in December ! 
How its rare fidelity 

Helps us to remember 
That amid the strife and stress 

Friendship wears such loveliness ! 

The rose is for the lover ; 

The ivy is for friends ; 
No winter storm can cover 

The warmth within God sends. 
Oh ! the rose doth quickly fall, 

But the ivy groweth tall. 

Just as green when warm winds stray 

O'er the roses dying, 
Will it be as on this day, 

With the snow-flakes flying. 
Ever living, growing strong 

As the seasons speed along! 



18 



A FANCY. 

y^i OD dropped a rose in the west at eve, 
^^ Ere the quiet night was born ; 
To-morrow a rose shall bloom in the east 

With birth of dewy morn. 
Oh! ever a rose doth bloom at dawn, 

Its petals fall with the night, 
And the stars, like bright dewdrops, on their tips 

Gleam when the day takes flight ! 



19 



WHEN I BEHELD YOU. 

(to w. s.) 

\X7HEN I beheld you weak yet undismayed, 
Turning your precious strength to art 
and song 
That they might justly conquer evil, wrong, 
I new-born courage at the sight displayed. 
Now that Fate's hard hand has on me been laid, 
And all days, once fleet-footed, seem so long, 
Your voice is pealing like a sunrise gong, 
Calling me on to duty, unafraid. 

I love the hills mist-wreathed and magical, 

The ever-changing moods of sea and sky, 
All life — strong, mirthful, weak, and tragical — 
Because your eyes all-seeing taught me to, 
And so I tell you this while you are nigh 
And give my love because it is your due ! 



20 



AT AN OLD BOOKSTORE. 

nPHE humble and the great seek out the stall; 
The student and the bookman, with a 
grace 
And olden courtesy, browse in this place 
Nor heed the fleeting hours' chiming fall. 
With eager faces peering in to all 
That is of interest in the open case, 
They slowly walk along the alley-space 
Or scan the volumes lined against the wall. 

I feel that Keats is hovering o'er me now, 
While Shakespeare gazes with all-seeing look; 

Proud Dante, with the bay upon his brow, 
Is guarding, solemnly, 'his youth's dear book', 

And I, in fancy's mood, try to endow 

These spirits wan, with life, in this old nook. 



21 



TRUST. 

(for h. p. a.) 

T know that every cloud doth hold a star, 

And every winter, spring; 
I shall not grieve though hope is far, so far : 
Some morn the birds will sing ! 

And though the darkness hides the stars to-night, 

There is good cheer within : 
I know, at length, that I shall find the light 

And triumph over sin. 



22 




1 • The lane goes over the way 
The cows go over the lane.' 



SONG. 

k ] 4 HE lane goes over the way; 
The cows go over the lane ; 
The way winds up where Jupiter shines ; 
The fence is green with the running vines, 
And the fields are full of grain. 

The lane goes over the way, 
But the way leads on to home. 
You with the city-look in your eyes, 
Just fancy your mother's glad surprise 
If you nevermore should roam ! 



23 



MIRACLES. 

'^l/ r HAT if the morn should fail to come 

And we had night two days; 
What if the bee forgot to hum, 

The bird, his roundelays; 
Would mankind pause, expectant, dumb, 

Wondering at God's ways? 

Yet of those wondrous things none tells 

Nor gives a thought to them. 
What marks day's end, save vesper-bells? 

Who sees night's diadem? 
Does man not turn for miracles 

Back to the Lord Christ's hem? 

Oh! may my body always thrill 

Whenever wee birds sing, 
My heart with youth and gladness fill 

At each returning spring; 
May I behold a mighty will , 

At work in everything! 



2 + 



TRIOLET. 

' I *HERE is snow upon the ground, 

Yet a robin sings on, griefless, 
From a twig or on a mound — 
There is snow upon the ground, 
But Hope's born with cheerful sound 

While the trees are black and leafless; 
There is snow upon the ground, 

Yet a robin sings on, griefless! 



25 



BARCAROLE. 

' I A HE silver moon hangs low behind the rushes; 
My love and I, afloat, 
Glide dreamily. 
Each gentle zephyr brushes 

Her rosy face and steals across to me 
And fills the crimson sails upon our boat. 

Love's sea knows naught of stormy, cloudy 
weather, 
Nor, my heart's love, shall we 
Know aught of this. 
Oh ! let us sail together, 

And I will touch thy lips with Love's first 
kiss 
In token of my soul's great constancy. 



26 



CONSTANCY. 

/^v love, I do not love thee less at dawn : 

^^^ Day, coming like a spy, 

Beholds me touch thy hand ; 

Darkness enfolds what daylight doth descry — 

Dost thou not understand ? 

Oh ! do not tremble like a startled fawn. 

Come, lift thy head and no more sit and grieve: 

The spying sun hath fled, 

And twilight holds us fast. 

A thousand kisses ache to press thy head 

Now that the day is past, 

Yet, love, I do not love thee more at eve ! 



27 




love, come dwell 

beneath my vine-clad tent. 



INVITATION. 

^\ love, come dwell beneath my vine-clad tent, 

O'er which the south-wind blows 
Pink petals from the rose, 
O'er which the south-wind sings till song is 

spent ! 
Oh ! come, my love, 
The rose above, 
The rose-tree fills the air with honeyed scent. 

Thy couch shall be a bed of coral moss; 

Thy lamp a gleaming star ; 

Red jewels from afar 

Shall deck thy garments made of finest floss. 

O love, come dwell 

Within the dell, 

And change to joy what absence makes a cross! 



2 8 



SPRING IS IN THE AIR. 

CPRING is in the air— 
Who will dare deny it ? 
What if ground is bare, 
Spring is in the air 
Everywhere. Everywhere 
See the spring birds flit. 

Is the ground so bare ? 
Look again. Just see it ! 
(Oh ! the warm spring air) 
Green things shy and fair 
Everywhere. Everywhere 
See the spring birds flit. 



29 



THOU HAST THY VIRGIN SOUL. 

nPHOU hast thy virgin soul, 
And I have mine; 

Oh, that the two were one, 
A perfect whole; 

Then by a look, a sign, 
Sin would be left undone. 

This is a bitter thing: 

To know that one we love 
Will have his way 
E'en though our fond hearts sting. 
Hear me, O God above, 
And guard him well to-day. 

Thou hast thy soul — and yet 
Thou hast thy soul and mine 
To shield or mar. 
Ah, ne'er forget 

That mine goes down with thine 
Or with thine finds a star ! 



3 



WILL SHAKESPEARE 
IN STRATFORD-ON-AVON. 

4\XfILL SHAKESPEARE ? ' Yes, I know 
the roguish youth, 
Albeit thoughtful too for one o' his years ; 
Last night he caused the village-folk some 
fears ; 
He dressed up as a ghost — Aye! 'tis the truth — 
A Danish ghost, and stalked around a booth; 
And when the women were at point o' tears, 
He dropped the cloak, and laughed, and gave 
three cheers ; 
Then jumped right o'er the head o' Mistress 
Ruth. 

They say, far up in big old London town, 
The good queen looks on him with kindly eye; 

Down here he's just a merry country clown 
Who tells us tales that make us laugh and cry ; 

You'll find him down the road, sir, dressed in 
brown, 
Telling my Henry England's history. 



31 



THE END O' THE QUEST. 

HP HE journey's o'er! Though bruised 

I raise my voice to sing, 
Exulting that I traveled on and cruised 
Until I found my king. 

Long had I dreamed of this 

Ere my dear dream came true. 
How sweet, how doubly sweet this moment is ! 

And oh, the sky how blue ! 

I sought him 'mid the hills, 

I sought him in the West, 
And now my heart with great thanksgiving fills, 

At ending of the quest. 

He comes — no pomp attends — 

Nor knows that he is crowned 
Unless divined by him as my head bends 

Until it meets the ground. 

He rules o'er no land broad; 

My heart his only throne, 
But oh ! the voice of my glad soul will laud, 

Will call him king, my own. 

32 



Though flowers of spring be fair, 

There's none so fair as he. 
How sweet to find my simple, trusting prayer 

A great reality ! 

Here, on this love-lit spot 

Which never will seem dim, 
We'll dwell — and oh ! my happy, happy lot 

To minister to him. 

And then some day we'll go, 

Our hand heaped high with flowers, 

Unto a mountain-height and gaze below 
Upon the vine-clad bowers. 

Then, on the long, lush grass, 

Far down the mountain-height, 
We'll scatter flowers, that lovers when they pass 

May smile up through the night. 



lovers, sweetly sing ; 
My pilgrimage is o'er; 

1 thank great God that I have found my king, 

My king, for evermore! 



33 



EVEN-SONG. 

/^\VER and over 

Dawn follows dawn ; 
Light is a rover, 
Waster of brawn. 

Let the night cover 
All day hath done, 

Love greet her lover 
Ere life be run. 

Winds sway the roses 

Here and afar. 
As twilight closes, 

Night gilds the star ! 



34 



THE CREATION OF SONG. 

X^^E fashion song of our sorrow, 

But the world with an over-wise look 
Must see anon if we borrow 

Our thought from another man's book ! 
O men, here's the secret ! we copy 

Our thoughts from the great book of Life; 
We make a poem of the poppy, 

And an epic from labor and strife. 



35 




•... The plant that grew 
Beside the wall. 



HOW. 

UOW could I know the plant that grew 

Beside the wall, 
Would bud and bloom, and bud and bloom anew, 
Till now it covers all ? 

How could I know the thought of you 

One summer eve, 
Would grow and grow till now it thrills me 
through, 

Nor grants me a reprieve ? 



36 




"The jewel- weed binds up her hair 
With silvery pearls, beside the stream. 



AUTUMN. 

t-JER face is veiled with purple haze 

Through which the wan sun sends a beam; 
The jewel-weed binds up her hair 

With silvery pearls, beside the stream. 

Oh, she is ever beautiful ! 

The fleeting years can do no harm, 
Still shall she come a century hence 

With all the old and luring charm. 

The cosmos, dahlias, golden-rod 
Her faithful, fair handmaidens are; 

They wait her coming in the days 

When Summer doth her entrance bar. 

They wait and listen till they hear 
The footfall of her crimson shoon, 

And then they bend and sway to her 
Beneath a silver, misty moon. 

The asters, like a million stars, 

Gleam brightly from the road-side grass 

To decorate and light the way 

O'er which her flowery train shall pass. 

Oh ! Autumn is a pensive maid ; 

Her ways are sweet and mild and sad, 
And we are loath to see her go, 

Remembering the joys we had! 

37 



O LITTLE FIR-TREE. 

(~^\ little fir-tree set against the sky, 

Dost watch the sun rise and the bright 
stars die, 

Nor lonely feel ? 
"They are so far away and oh ! so high — 
Where snow-white clouds go marching swiftly 

by, 

No zephyrs mild about my boughs 
could steal." 

little fir-tree set upon the hill, 

Dost watch cloud-wreathed Dian her round 
arms fill 

With sparkling stars ? 
"I see her gems, but oh ! when all is still 

1 hear the love-song of a happy rill 

That gently flows beneath the pas- 
ture-bars." 



38 



TO A BOY SCOUT. 

T see him as he daily passesby; 

His heart I know is full of budding dreams; 
His head is turned to face the morning sky, 
And Youth's unsullied glow about him gleams. 

He is a poet's ideal of a youth: 

Strong-limbed, alert, frank, manly, and clear- 
eyed; 
And in his face I see the light of Truth; 

No vices does he vainly try to hide. 

I know he dreams, but know not what he sees; 

Ah, once I was a youth ! and well I know 
His wonder at Life's new-old mysteries — 

Oh God, I pray that he may face them so! 



39 



TO A BUTTERFLY. 

Did it but sing the butterfly might have to suffer in 
a cage. 

From the Japanese. 

\X7"ELL for you you do not sing, 
Spark o' life and gossamer. 
Else within a gilded cage 
You should beat your painted wing, 
Fly and flutter, sing and whir — 
New amusement for the age! 

Yet, ah ! yet if you did sing : 
What a song of lilies fair, 

Honey cups agleam with dew, 
Sunny meadows, fragrant air 
We should have to listen to 
As you beat your damask wing ! 



40 



WHEN ALL THE SILVER STARS 
GROW DIM. 

\X7HEN all the silver stars grow dim 

With coming light of dawn, 
And weird, gray shadows slowly limn 
Their length on dewy lawn — 

And one star still its fortress keeps 
Though all the rest have fled, 

While still the tired world gently sleeps, 
I rise up from my bed. 

I go to watch the gray dawn pass, 

And greet the rosy morn 
That scatters brilliants on the grass 

And shouts: c The day is born !' 



41 



HATH SPRING NOT COME? 

T-TATH spring not come? for lo! her har- 
bingers, 
The brown buds, turn to sweet albescent 

bloom, 
And where King Winter had his spacious 
room 
Of ice and snow, the vernal leaflet stirs. 
Hath spring not come? though Autumn's 
chestnut-burs 
Lie on the ground, the blood-root doth illume 
The way that leads direct to Winter's tomb 
Among the pine-trees and the balsam-firs. 

Yea ! she hath come, with all her pageantry, 
And April welcomes her a princess fair; 

Her gown is made of woven melody ; 
Bright daffodils are tangled in her hair; 

She is so young and joyous, wild, and free 
That many to her will their love declare ! 



42 



TO THE WORLD. 

\X7HAT would you do without us, 

World, if we did not sing ? 
You who mockingly flout us, 

Never beheld a king ! 
What were your purse and power, 

Might and your daring deeds, 
Concrete and light and tower, 

Without a poet's screeds ? 

What now lives of the Romans, 

Save on history's page ? 
We made the record ! World, no man's 

Deeds endure past an age. 
Conquer the earth, world-bound minions, 

Jestingly pass us by ; 
Though scattered your work by Time's 
pinions, 

We'll see that it does not die ! 



43 




" There is a beauty all about. 
On the banks and stream." 



CANOEING AT LENAPE. 

/^LIDING on the Brandywine 
When the sun is low 

And the ripples faintly shine 
With a golden glow 
While the soft winds blow. 

There is beauty all about, 
On the banks and stream, 

In youth's merry laugh and shout; 
And the sun's last beam 
Is a poet's dream ! 

Swiftly now the boat glides on, 
And the bending boughs 

Brush our heads and then are gone; 
Up the stream some cows 
Watch us as they browse. 

Then we idly dream, and drift 

Back upon the tide ; 
Let the boat on ripples' lift 

Bear us, in our ride, 

To the landing-side. 



44 



MY PRAYER. 

T cannot give Thee thanks for gold, 

Nor thanks for health; 
Save for the largess which my mind doth hold, 

I haven't any wealth. 
But this sufficeth me: 

E'en though my strength is small 
It still doth bind me to the fate of all 
In joy and misery ! 

Just for these things I give my praise, 

Nor hope to win 
By this, through dawning of far brighter days, 

Less strife with Want and Sin. 
Oh, make my life a prayer 

For all mankind to see, 

And when they sorrow, on beholding me 
May they forget their care ! 



45 



HOME WALLS. 

A gaol were they to me, forsooth, 

So dull they seemed, and bare, and chill, 
The walls that faced me when a youth : 

I dreamed of care-free lands beyond the hill. 

I've seen the lands beyond the hill ; 

I'm weary of the busy mart ; 
Oh, for the walls that seemed so chill, 

Naught else I know can warm and cheer my 
heart ! 



46 



THE BIRDS ARE SINGING IN THE 
RAIN. 

I 

HP HE birds are singing in the rain ; 

The ferns are drenched with dew; 
The day is lost — yet not in vain 
The birds are singing in the rain : 
To-morrow will be blue ! 

II 

The birds are singing in the rain, 

And so my heart is glad, 
For every loss need not bring pain; 
The birds are singing in the rain — 

Why should our hearts be sad ? 



47 



THE TOKEN. 

A quivering flammule gilds the ancient shrine 
Whereon a god of gold and chrysoprase, 
With cunning eyes that take no count of days, 
Is set — a symbol of the all-divine. 
See little maidens pouring in like wine, 

Aglow with life and all its sparkling ways, 
Kneel at the shrine, and then, 'mid incense- 
haze, 
They say their fondest wish, and wait a sign. 

Without, the cherry-blossoms gleam like snow, 
And through the branches near the temple- 
door, 
Bright-colored lanterns, breeze-tossed, bend and 

blow; 
Then as the bird-sung dawnlight comes once 

more, 
The little maids rise up and happy go 

As one bright blossom blows upon the floor ! 



48 



TO MOTHER. 

^VT'OU always hid the tears behind your mirth 

And waited for the clouds to pass away; 

In starless night you saw a gleam of day 

That promised better things for our small earth; 

What though these proved to be of little worth, 

You smiled the same and joined me in my 

play: 
Surely the storm must come ere balmy May, 
And out of sorrow, joy is given birth. 

Now take my sonnet as a rainbow sent 

To hang against the storm-cloud's sullen hue; 
O patient mother, see, the storm is spent ! 

Beyond the breaking clouds behold the blue; 
Whilst hope-fed blossoms raise their heads, once 
bent, 
To breathe the fragrance of the sun-kissed 
dew ! 



49 



THE NIGHT-BLOOMING CEREUS. 
(For E. K. P.) 

|*T comes so silently to make one night 

The fairer for its blooming. With the day, 
Folding its petals sweet and lily-white 
Without a sign, it softly fades for aye. 

O bloom of palest pink and pearly white, 
How many lesser things call us by day ! 

While thou most beautiful, throughout the night 
Unheralded dost bloom and pass away. 



50 



THE BATTLE. 

T have laughed at Life, 

Snapped my fingers at her; 
Fought Death in the strife, 

And it did not matter ; 
Yet if you turned foe, 

You who have made life sweet, 
How could I strike the blow, 
Without a sure defeat ? 



51 



SCHUMANN'S TRAUMEREI. 
(In Broad St. Station) 

^^TO ! Schumann is not dead, 

And Love shall never die — 
A brakeman in the shed 
Is whistling 'Traumerei.' 

Amid the surging crowd 

He sends his heart's dear dream ; 
Softly o'er voices loud 

Is borne the yearning theme. 

He dreams of vine-clad home, 

A baby's chubby hand, 
And bids my own thoughts roam 

Through space to Love's Dream-land. 

. Oh ! whistle on your tune 
While in my heart I hold 
Nights 'neath a lover's moon 
I would not sell for gold. 



52 



THE MADONNA. 

CWEET mother, with a tender gaze 
Behold thy babe, nor look to see 
Beyond the mystic, radiant haze 
A cross upon Mount Calvary ! 



53 



THE STORM. 

HP HE morn is chill ; 
The autumn-rain, 
With blast and pain, 
Forbodeth ill. 

It blights the red, 
And golden leaves, 
Nor even grieves 
To see them dead. 

Then, with a shriek, 
It leaves behind 
The moaning wind 
Its spoil to seek. 



54 



FLOWER SONG. 

T>RING vase and bowl and jardiniere, 

And let me fill them with my flowers! 
See! here are daisies tall and fair, 

Sweet blooms that came from sylvan bowers, 
Some peonies and pansies too, 

Fern, valley-lilies, mignonette, 
And this shy bit of wondrous blue 

Is just a woodland-violet. 

Oh! let me set them all about, — 

The pansies there, the lilies here, 
The daisies, on the steps without, 

Their nodding faces bring good cheer; 
The peonies in this old vase, 

Before the mirror. See, they show 
As blushful as a maiden's face 

When she her lover's heart would know! 

Now, on the mantel near the door, 

I'll set the mignonette and fern — 
Oh ! here's a rose dew-sprinkled o'er, 

Whose flaming leaves with love do burn. 
Thy tender hands should be the bowl 

To hold the petals when they fall, 
For each a thought is from my soul, 

And I would have you know them all ! 

55 



MY LADY OF THE BLUE BANDEAU. 

(Chanson.) 

T hear her step upon the stair, 

My Lady of the Blue Bandeau; 
She hath five gentians in her hair, 
Five closed gentians so fresh and fair 

Whose hearts the sunbeams ne'er shall know. 

Dear Lady of the Blue Bandeau, 
Oh, hear thy liege his woe declare! 

Wilt thou forever treat me so? 

Ah! Lady, shall I never know 

If my heart's fire is burning there? 



56 



ONE WHO WAS FOND OF 
EPHEMERAL PLEASURES. 

"^TO flash of whip, nor woman's sparkling eye, 

Nor ruddy bowl, 
Shall e'er affect him more. 
If that was life, what is it, God, to die? 
Here lies the body — what befell the soul? 
Was there no guerdon to touch Pleasure's goal, 
Save what those poor joys bore? 



57 



CHANSON. 

CEE, 

You are free! 
I can let you go 
With a smile. 
After while 

You will miss me though, 
Hate your liberty. 

Well, 

What is there to tell ? 

Love was full of pain, 

Pleasure too. 

I was true, 

Yet what did I gain 

When love fell? 

Kind! 

I shall bear in mind 

All you were 

Through the year; 

Hide the tear; 

Stop the stir; 

Let love find me blind. 

Know, 
Ere you go, 

For the old time's sake, 
If you need a friend, 
Come or send ; 
Once you healed an ache- 
Pansies were ablow! 
58 



IN THE CATSKILLS. 

T stood upon a mount and felt like God: 

"■■ Below me tiny town and silvery bay, 
Island and river, hill and village lay 

Upon a mighty checker-board of sod. 

The fertile farmlands stretching rod on rod 
A Titan's palette were, with color gay, 
O'er which the sunbeams and the shadows 
play, 

Whilst countless trees, wind-tossed, forever nod. 

I heard no prayer ascend from any home 

O'er which I looked as from a cloud-built 
door, 
Yet far down in the valley thousands live 
Who love and hate, withhold and freely 
give- 
Godlike was I in sight but nothing more: 
Prayers silent sped by me to heaven's dome! 



59 



NIAGARA. 

TVyTAN builds colossal bridges, buildings high, 

And bids the air and sea obey his call ; 
How small his deeds, how puny is his power, 
Beside thy brink, O mighty waterfall! 



60 



BERNARD SHAW. 

SPHINX with a voice, and, knowing, dare to 
tell, 
Thou who hast stripped the flesh from puny 

man, 
Showing his shivering soul, his tribal clan, 
Whether in mansion or in prison-cell; 
Thou who hast driven Custom down to hell, 
Flashing the truth upon our marriage-ban, 
Fighting our lies as an immortal can, 
Diety-wise and all-inscrutable: 

Thou art a world force in the rush of Time, 
Playing with Life as children do with toys, 
Hurling back in her face the very joys 

That man, so childishly, has called sublime; 

So long as worlds unto our old world rhyme, 
Thy name shall silence Sham's defiant noise! 



61 



SONG. 

/^\H! the road is long, 

And the sky is gray; 
What a weary song 
Is the close of day! 

Oh! the shadows grow 
And the way grows too, 

But it was not so 
When it led to you! 



62 



KINSHIP. 

T am part of the sea and stars 

And the winds of the south and north, 
Of mountain and moon and Mars, 
And the ages sent me forth! 

Blind Homer, the splendor of Greece, 
Sang the songs I sang ere he fell; 

She whom men call Beatrice 
Saw me in the depths of hell. 

I was hanged at dawn for a crime; 

Flesh dies, but the soul knows no death; 
I piped to great Shakespeare's chime, 

The witches' song in Macbeth. 

All, all, who have suffered, and won, 

Who have struggled, and failed, and died, 

Am I, with work still undone, 
And a spear-mark in my side. 

I am part of the sea and stars 

And the winds of the south and north, 

Of mountain and moon and Mars, 
And the ages sent me forth! 



63 



TO MISCHA ELMAN. 
(On Playing the Violin.) 

T VOICES that sing of centuries gone by, 

Murmurs that come from a wild, distant 
sea, 
Sobs that arise from sin and agony, 
And the low call of birds 'neath twilight-sky, 
Arise at touch of thy enchanted bow 
Which glides from ecstasy to deepest woe. 
The brooklet sings at thy endearing call, 
Triumphant Love awakens at thy plea, 
And those who listen, Oh! so silently, 
Hear weird winds sobbing and bruised blossoms 
fall! 



64 



"KING BY DIVINE RIGHT." 

T? ARTH'S first kings ruled by force, and so, 
^"^ on down, 

Their sons have reigned from that day unto 
this ; 
But God upon the Poet placed His crown 

Unseen, with an immortal soul-wrought kiss! 



65 



TO F. GUTEKUNST. 

1V/T Y little world doth have a wondrous sky 

Wherein the stars of friendship brightly 
burn; 
And when I to the east my glad face turn, 
Two blazing suns bedim my eager eye. 
Two of earth's greatest men, with loyal cry, 
Have called me friend. How fine it is to 

learn 
That greatness dwells within a modest urn 
And lets vain egotism pass it by! 

Hail, king, within photography's wide realm! 
A wandering minstrel with a reedy flute 
Doth send a song of greeting on its way, 
Hoping that it at length will overwhelm 

All care which you may have this natal day, 
And hear your murmured thanks, ere it be 
mute! 



66 



THE WILD-ROSE. 

A H ! Wild-Rose, with thy soft cheek 
**" Blushing as I kiss thee, 
Come with me; my love I seek; 
She is kind and true and meek — 
Do not let her miss me. 

Way-side bloom, so shy and fair, 
Hast thou seen my dear one 

When the sunlight gilds her hair? 

Puff! A zephyr. Gentle air, 
Stronger blow: I fear none. 

Come, Wild-Rose, now answer; say, 

As I bend to kiss thee — 
Stay, ye winds! Alack! the day; 
My Wild-Rose has blown away: 

Now my love shall miss me! 

Though I search in every place, 

Call aloud my dear one, 
Still the mad winds hide her face, 
Laugh and mock, nor leave a trace; 

Fool was I to fear none! 



6" 



THE WANDERER'S SONG. 

Tf VERYWHERE the bright lights gleam, 

*~* Happy children pass 

With kind fathers, loving mothers; gay, indeed, 
are all — 

Hush ! I have the far star's beam 

As I lie upon the grass, 

And the all-protecting Father hears the wand- 
erer's call. 

Though I tarry here to-night, 

Laugh and talk with them, 

Ere the sun has flung his gold upon the night- 
wrapped earth, 

I'll be up and out of sight, 

Find a wild-rose dewdrop-gem ; 

What is wealth? Mere gold's a trifle — I've been 
rich since birth! 

Sweet the song of early bird ! 

Grand the mist on hill ! 

Yet I wish a little spot: four walls — no more — 

and then 
Joy would prompt my every word, 
I would stand upon the sill 
And cry, 'Rest and welcome, brother,' to God's 

wandering men. 

68 



EUGENIE. 

Ex-Empress Eugenie while stooping to pick a 
flower in the Tuileries Gardens where her own 
palace once stood, was prevented, by an attend- 
ant, from so doing. 

CHE was an empress once — 

Long shorn of regal power 
She slowly walks alone 

Where stood her royal bower. 

As on her way she goes, 
Stooping to pick a flower, 

Quickly a guard starts up — 
List to a hireling's power! 

"Madame, the law forbids! 

What is your name?" said he. 
"France knew me years ago, 

And called me Eugenie." 

How unrelenting years 

Roll with unceasing change! 

She was an empress once, 

Now, old, unknown and strange. 



69 



TO A CHILD WITH FLOWERS. 

ITTLE child, with rosy cheeks, 
"^"^ Golden hair and deep-blue eyes, 
What does life, dear, mean to you 
Just a short while from the skies? 
Flowers bright, and play, and toys, 
Fairy princes, silver dreams? 

Happy child! I thought so once, 

Saw it all through golden beams; 

Many years have passed away, 

Still I keep my silver dreams. 

Still I keep my silver dreams 

And my love for all the flowers, 

Keep the wonder in my eyes 

Though the years have brought dark hours. 

Little child, with rosy cheeks, 
Keep the wonder in your eyes 
And your fair arms full of flowers 
Down the marching centuries! 



70 



THE TEST. 

p ATE came unto me, saw me in my plight, 

And added pain. 
'O Fate,' I cried, 'why dost thou still pursue? 
Why hast thou come again ?' 
Then Fate replied: 'I come to find a god, 
But weary of my quest. 
I only come to man while he is weak; 
If he were strong I could not make the test.' 



71 



A CHRISTMAS SONG. 

' 1 A HE sky with snow is overcast; 

The trees are covered o'er with ice, 
And odors from the Christmas spice 
Are blown about with every blast. 
Good children, sing, and, fiddlers, play, 
For this is merry Christmas Day. 

The snow is falling swiftly now; 
It covers every twig and limb — 
Come, let us sing a Yule-tide hymn 
Around the holly-covered bough: 
"God rest ye, merrie gentlemen," 
The holy Babe is born again. 

Oh, Christmas is a happy day! 
A day of peace and right good cheer; 
The brightest day of all the year; 
So carol we with voices gay, 
"Though sky be overcast with snow, 
Within's the light that aye shall glow!" 



72 



SHADOWED. 

T met a friend. He took my hand. 

I saw that he was not alone. 
He laughed and did not understand 

That Death had marked him for her own. 

'Good friend, how are you?' soon he asked. 

Oh! I am well — and — how — are — you? 
(Ah! God, why should I thus be tasked? 

It seemed so hard for me to do.) 

He said, 'All right.' I tried to smile. 

He passed. I walked on silently, 
Nor did I know that, all the while, 

Death too was walking on with me. 



73 



THE ROBIN'S SONG. 

f\ H, sweet, sweet, sweet! 

Oh, fair, fair, fair! 
Oh, sweet and fair are lyric days of spring! 
Tweet, tweet, tweet, tweet; 
Take care, take care, 
Or I will fly away and cease to sing. 

Oh, grow, grow, grow! 
Oh, burst, burst, burst! 

Oh, grow and burst, pink buds of warm spring- 
time! 
Ho, ho, ho, ho! 
O winds, south-nursed, 
Come sound the harebell's tinkling faery chime! 



74 



A REVELATION. 

TTE passed a narrow street 

A Where stagnant water lay, 
And saw therein, reflected at his feet, 
The gleaming light of day. 

He never knew, ah, no ! 

In poverty and sin 
A life might thus a blessed radiance show, 

Until he looked therein. 



75 



THE SOUL VICTORIOUS. 

T am Life. I am Youth. 

I am Love. I am Joy. 

I am Mind. I am Truth. 

Time ne'er can destroy 
What I dreamed, what I wrought, 

What I felt, what I did, 
What I knew, what I thought, 

What I saw, what I hid. 

Sky may fade; suns may die; 

Planets grow dim and cold. 
What of that! Ne'er shall I! 

I ne'er shall grow old! 
Ages yet in the mist 

Shall behold then, as now, 
What I sought, whom I kissed, 

Whom I loved, when and how. 

Ah, I scale! Ah, I fly! 

Oh, I float! Oh, I glide! 
See, I gleam in the sky! 

I move in the tide! 
Ah, I see! Ah, I know! 

What I dream you shall see 
In the tints of the bow, 

Now and eternally! 
76 



THE APPLE-BLOSSOMS. 

(For E. G. G.) 

"OLOSSOMS blushful, delicate, 
*** Fragrant with the breath of morn, 
Come when robin-redbreasts mate, 
And the joyous spring is born. 

See them beckon, from the walk, 
Swayed by every passing breeze; 

Now they dance and softly talk 
With the humming honey-bees. 

They are fairies, with their dress 
Now, for once, quite visible; 

How they cheer and how they bless 
With the magic of their spell! 



77 



CHANSON. 

(Heart o' my Heart.) 

HP HE sky is gray, and the rain is gray; 

Heart o' my heart, Life sobs in the wind. 
The leaves fall off when the branches sway ; 
Heart o' my heart, the winds are unkind, 
But the rain is more cruel than they. 

There's a song for us, a sky that's fair, 

Heart o' my heart, in the Land o' Dreams. 

Let us go wandering over there, 

Heart o' my heart, where the glad sun beams 

And sweet laughter doth silence all care! 



78 



PEACE. 

A LMIGHTY Peace, for thou art so, put by 
our devilish arms: 
Break up our steel and silence drums and battle's 

loud alarms; 
Come thou unto our hearths and teach the na- 
tions that to dwell 
In harmony is happiness, and vanquish this last 
hell. 

The gleaming of a million blades, each flashing 

back a sun, 
Returning home blood-stained and scarred, their 

cruel purpose won, 
No more shall stir a foolish pride to emulate false 

deeds, 
Or cause our mothers to bemoan a cause that 

asks such needs. 

The rumbling of a thousand guns, the sounds of 
strife and march, 

The soldier's groan, the mother's grief, the vic- 
tor's blood-built arch, 

Shall be among the wrongs that were, and in 
their stead shall be 

Content, and joy, rest and relief, thought for 
humanity ! 

1 79 



The victor's bays shall go to him who teaches 

man to live, 
To love his neighbor as himself, to honor, and 

forgive, 
To help the wan and weary ones whose load is 

hard to bear, 
To drive away their furrowed grief, and of his 

joy give share. 

Then Beauty, Art and Life will grow, Music 

and Poetry 
Shall find a home and praise at last, and sound 

o'er every sea; 
Cities shall rise whose buildings fair will be 

direct outcome 
Of gold that erstwhile paid for sword, gunpowder 

and the drum. 

Almighty Peace, for thou art so, put by our 
devilish arms; 

Break up our steel and silence drums and battle's 
loud alarms; 

Come thou unto our hearths and teach the na- 
tions that to dwell 

In harmony is happiness, and vanquish this last 
hell! 



80 



DESTINY. 

f^\ Destiny, controller of our lives, 

We ever struggle 'gainst thee and forget, 
Regardless of our scorning and our threat, 

That thou hast bound us with relentless gyves; 

Or if, anon, expiring hope survives, 
On gazing at the tree or violet, 
Only too soon, clad in thy sombre jet, 

Thou comest with a doom from Life's archives. 

E'en as a mouse that plays about the floor, 
Unmindful of the house-cat's watchful eye, 
Are we beneath thy stern, unyielding laws ; 
And when our antics thy good humor bore, 

Thy voice shouts, glad in triumph, 'Ye must 
die!' 

As we fall, crushed beneath thy piercing 
paws. 



si 



WHEN OUR SHIPS COME IN. 

/~\H ! every time a rosy babe is born, 

A ship, full-rigged, sets sail, — 
And that is why men say, at break o' morn, 
'My ship comes in to-day or sun or gale.' 

Each ship is launched unloaded from Life's quay, 

And filled as it doth float, 
Thus some come freighted like an argosy, 

And some come drifting like a storm-swept 
boat. 

They come from all the countries of the South; 

And if one sinks at sea, 
A youth is found with Death's kiss on his 
mouth — 

What life would live without its treasury? 

O men, your ships are coming o'er the wave — 

What cargoes do they bring? 
A wish fulfilled? The gold that you did crave? 

Or just a trifling joy that may take wing? 

Well, listen ! if your vessels bring no gold, 

My ship shall come at last, 
And I will give you all that it doth hold 

If Love, sweet-smiling, guide the tattered mast. 

82 



AT CEDARCROFT. 

(The Home of Bayard Taylor.) 

HP HIS is the very spot where once he trod! 
* Tread softly on and off "The Poet's 
Walk," 
For who can tell? Perhaps he still may talk, 
This poet that men say is 'neath the sod. 
A foolish thought! for never could Death's rod 
Destroy his work — it was not writ in chalk — 
Nor would God thwart his purposes or balk; 
His soul still lives, unfettered by the clod. 

At Cedarcroft, within his study-walls, 

He wrote and dreamed, as all about the place 
The sloping hills were green in summer's 
guise. 
Long years ago as God looked from His halls, 
He thought a poet's song these hills should 
grace, 
So Bayard came with beauty-loving eyes! 



83 



AT BAYARD TAYLOR'S TOMB. 

p\EAR friend, if I should tell thee where I 
found 

This lily that I bring thee for thy tomb, 

Thou couldst recall the hours of sun and gloom 
Spent there upon that lily-blooming ground. . . . 
I know thou art not dead, though not a sound 

Comes from thy ivy-covered narrow room ; 

Thou still art weaving stories on life's loom, 
Thy new life's loom, where golden threads 
abound. 

A simple lily of the bright sun's glow, 
I place upon thy tomb, and fairer far 

Is it than aught I keep, though well I know 
'Tis but a bloom, yet if I brought a star 

I could not place it here more reverently 
Than this bright lily that I leave with thee! 



84 



THOUGHTS SUGGESTED BY A 
CHILD'S GIFT OF HYACINTHS. 

(For W. O. K.) 

Dear child, who sent me these fair flowers of 

spring, 
Accept, in turn, a simple offering. 

Easter Eve — Near an Open Window. 

T walk about the room, 

Amid the twilight-gloom, 
And though I do not see 
The blooms you sent to me, 
Yet every where I go 
The gentle spring winds blow 
Their fragrance. From the street 
The sound of passing feet 
Comes up to where I live, — 
And He who said, 'Forgive,' 
So many years ago, 
After His night of woe, 
Still shows the noblest way 
For man to live to-day. . . . 
Sweet flowers, in the room, 
Amid the twilight-gloom, 
Yea, e'en to-day we of His love have need, 
And now, as then, 'a little child shall lead.' 
85 



Easter Dawn — Beside the Flowers. 

The night Is past, and morn 

Triumphantly is born! 

The snow and ice have fled, 

And lo! the earth once dead 

Has rent its ice-bound chain 

And come to life again. . . . 

Lo! every heart bruised, sad, 

Rejoices and is glad, 

And over all the world 

Hope's banner is unfurled 

As Sorrow steals away 

That Love may reign to-day. . . . 

O royal, fragrant blooms, 

Burst are the snow-sealed tombs; 

O blooms of purity, 

Carol so tenderly: 

Yea, e'en to-day we of His love have need, 

And now, as then, a little child doth lead. 

Easter Night — Reverie. 

Dear child, the night has come, 
And, with my thanks, I sum 
A thought from your fair flowers 
And many happy hours 
Your gift has brought to me. 

86 



Unseen and silently — 

Their place I could not mark 

Amid the twilight-dark — 

They sent a fragrant prayer; 

Your hyacinths so fair 

Did fill my little room 

With love and rich perfume. 

A flower you can be 

And with love, purity, 

Make all who meet you smile, 

For One who knew no guile 

Said long ago, 'In any righteous deed, 

If man should falter, lo! a child shall lead. 



87 



OH! LET ME BE YOUR FRIEND. 

(To J. W. K.) 

/~\H! let me be your friend when you are glad 
That I may share your smile and happiness, 
For I must be your friend when cares depress 
And take away the joy and youth you had. 
If e'er you fall — you who have ne'er been bad — 
Stretch forth your hand, and I will give re- 
dress, 
Being but man, I've sinned and known dis- 
tress ; 
Therefore I could not bear to see you sad. 

Friends you will have — what man has not his 
friends? 
Test them, and those of worth bind to your 
heart, 
For sometimes life's brief years seem long 
indeed. 
So many men will cheer you at the start; 
But when the night comes and the tired head 
bends, 
Though all should fail, I'll help you in your 
need. 



88 




• 7 saw the slim sapling grow 
' Till it stood a mighty tree. ' 



IMPRISONED. 

\7C7HEN the ocean was a rill, 

The mountain only a mound, 
I sprang to life with a bound, 
Urged on by a stronger will. 

I saw the slim sapling grow 
Till it stood a mighty tree 
That mockingly sheltered me, 

Who once could have laid it low. 

The rill whose course I had turned, 
Steadily grew to a stream 
Through ages that seem a dream, 

And fierce anger in me burned. 

The mound I once might have swept 
To earth with my baby-hand, 
Gradually rose from the land, 

And my spirit moaned and wept. 

A continent holds me fast, 
And the ocean roars at me; 
I long for my liberty — 

O God, will this always last? 



89 



ON RECEIVING SOME WOODLAND 
FLOWERS. 

\7^7HAT thanks are worthy of these wood- 
land-flowers ? 

I am not versed in such a gracious art, 
Yet if a friend brings gifts from Flora's bowers, 

I write his name upon my grateful heart! 



90 



THE GOOD WIFE'S SONG. 

\X7 HEN morning comes you go from me 
To face the city's crowded mart; 
I, with a lonely, restless heart, 
Take up the old tasks silently. 

But when night's crystal cressets burn, 
Forgotten is the long day's pain: 
You hold me close, so close, again, — 

Ah God! the joy when you return. 



91 



NATAL SONG. 

COME come to earth when the woods are green, 

And some when the hot winds blow ; 
Some open their eyes 'neath autumn skies, 

And some to a world of snow; 

And the Lord alone doth know! 

But whether the time be spring's fair dawn, 
Or summer's noon, with the rose, 

Fall's chill twilight, or winter's long night, 
It bringeth its joys and woes 
With faith in the One who knows. 



92 




Oh ! what a spot 
in which to read of Greece. 



IN A GARDEN. 

*L_T ERE one could spend a golden afternoon 
Amid the silence of a thousand trees, 
Hearing the notes of Nature's symphonies 

That sound majestical in balmy June. 

Here Pan himself his soft pipes could attune 
To sylvan dances, new-world melodies 
That, carried by the gentle, vagrant breeze 

To dusty cities, would come as a boon. 

Oh! what a spot in which to read of Greece, 
Whose rustic shepherds, with their wandering 
sheep, 
Oft saw a naiad in a pool like this. 
Here one could, lulled by drowsy sounds of 
peace, 
Fall in a quiet, sweet and dreamful sleep, 
Feeling the touch of some fair dryad's kiss! 



93 



THE EVENING PRIMROSES. 

XT7HEN twilight touches the garden-walk, 

I go to the flower-bed, 
Where golden buds on a branching stalk, 
Rise o'er a poppy's head. 

Then, as I watch, they slowly unfold — 

Never was poem so rare — 
What a sweet message written in gold, 

Calleth the earth to prayer! 

Oh, what a miracle I have seen! 

Lo, with a soft, pale light, 
These fair full-moons of the dusky green, 

Hang on the robe of Night! 



94 



EROS. 

T? ROS, with thy golden bow, 
^^ Shooting arrows left and right, 
Art thou 'ware the joy and woe, 
Peace and pain-pang, gloom and light, 
That, incased in thy small darts, 
Find a lodging in our hearts? 

Thou shouldst have another name, 
Fickle Eros, with thy bow. 
Fie on thee! Fie, fie for shame! 
We the thrill of freedom know 
As we bind thee with a chain; 
Thou art captive, that is plain. 

Hark! What means that saucy laugh? 
Lo, the chain is torn in half! 



95 



LULLABY. 

HP HE sky is a field where the star flowers 
grow ; 

The moon is the queen of that land; 
Oh! come, baby dear, together we'll go, 

With your little hand in my hand, 
To the land where the nodding star flowers blow, 

Far over the dark waves' white foam. 

The moon will think you a pretty star rose 
Sprung up from the seed she has sown, 

But when dawn is near and the star flowers close 
I shall call you, baby, my own 

Star flower and rose, and, as the sun glows, 
We'll sail o'er the ocean for home. 



96 



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